It Was A Very Good Year
by Delilah's Soliloquy
Summary: To everything, there is a season. A look at the moments that make up Artie and Tina's relationship, through the twelve months and over the years.
1. January

**It's a snow day! Hooray! Anyway, the steady snowfall inspired me to get started on publishing my first multi-chapter fic: a year of Artie/Tina goodness! Each chapter is a different moment in the lives of our two favorite Gleeks, each corresponding to a month of the year. The chapters aren't chronological, so each moment can be taken on its own. I'd love to hear your ideas for some awesome Tartie moments through the seasons, so please feel free to make as many suggestions as you want! Cheers, Delilah.**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own Glee. Maybe for my birthday?**

No Two Snowflakes Are Exactly the Same

Tina loved watching the snow, especially on days like today, when it just drifted lazily down from the opalescent sky. She glanced over at Artie, who seemed to be thinking along similar lines. His eyes followed the progress of the snowflakes as they floated toward the ground. He appeared to be completely lost in his thoughts. _There's just something about these snowy days that makes him so thoughtful_, reflected Tina. _I'd love to find out what it is_.

"Come on, we're going outside!" Tina suddenly announced. It was a cold, snowy Saturday, and Tina and Artie had spent most of the past few hours surfing channels on the TV. The house was fairly quiet; it seemed as though no one wanted to disrupt the silence which the snow had cast over everything.

"Why?" asked Artie, his brow furrowed. "There's really nowhere to go, and anyway, getting around in this much snow would be pretty tough."

Tina giggled. "Who said anything about going anywhere? We're just going out onto your lawn, it's not like we'll have to commute."

Artie still appeared unconvinced as to the necessity of this little adventure. "What's the point? It's just snow; we can see it through the window just fine."

Tina's face was set in a stubborn grin. "Well, that does it—you _need_ to experience a good snowfall. Let's go, get your coat on." She was pushing him towards the door as she spoke, and Artie knew he had no choice but to zip up his coat and wind his scarf around his neck, lest he freeze waiting for Tina to get her fill of the snow.

The door opened, the pair paused in front of the house, and a calm stillness fell over them. It was as if someone had turned off the volume. Trees, houses and cars were all coated in several inches of fluffy white snow, and as they watched, more snow drifted soundlessly down onto their heads.

"Isn't it wonderful?" whispered Tina. She didn't want to break the spell by raising her voice. "The best part of a snowy day isn't watching the snow, it's just…_being_ in it. It's like the world came to a stop, and nothing exists except for you and me and the snow. It's like living in one of those little glass snowglobes."

Getting behind Artie's chair again, Tina pushed with all her might until she managed to situate the two of them in the middle of the Abrams' snow-covered front lawn. She set the wheel lock, then came around to face Artie. Snow was clinging, marble-white against her eyelashes and her long, raven-and-blue-streaked hair. Artie reached up a hand to brush some of it off. "Here—you'll be soaked if we go inside and you let that melt in your hair…"

"Wait!" breathed Tina, and when she spoke, her breath came in an icy fog. "Look! When you look at the snow against something dark, like my hair, you can see all the different shapes of the snowflakes. Here, look closer—" She raised her forearm between them, and sure enough, snowflakes were sticking to the sleeve of her coat. Both Artie and Tina leaned in, transfixed at the tiny, crystalline perfection of each snowflake.

"You know," said Tina, in barely more than a whisper, "No two snowflakes are alike. Every single one stands out on its own. It's a miracle of nature."

"Wow," answered Artie, who seemed to have found his voice at last. "I never realized how…beautiful it was. The snow, I mean…"

"It kind of reminds me of…us" ventured Tina tentatively. Artie raised an eyebrow, apparently not understanding entirely, so Tina elaborated. "You know, us Glee kids don't really fit in at school, everyone thinks we're a bunch of losers because they don't look close enough—really look at us, and see that we're something more that…I don't know, the human equivalent of clumpy white stuff," she finished.

"'Clumpy white stuff', that's pure poetry Tee! I never realized what a tortured, sensitive soul you are!" Artie laughed, and Tina scowled playfully, grabbing a handful of snow and throwing it, hard, in his face. "Oh, _now_ you're gonna get it!" he called over her laughter, but any actual fierceness in that statement was completely negated by the fact that his glasses were now lopsided and he had a decent quantity of shush sliding down the side of his face. Artie reached down and lobbed a snowball at Tina, and all bets were off as the two of them, shrieking with laughter, pelted each other with snowballs on the lawn.

The impromptu snowball fight lasted for several frenzied minutes and ended only when Artie, who was evenly covered in snow and ice, begged for a truce. Tina had enjoyed a huge advantage, being able to run around the lawn as much as she pleased, take cover behind the garbage pails in the driveway and sneak up from behind for a variety of very successful attacks that Artie, try as he may, just couldn't shield himself from. However, looking at him stuck helplessly in the snow, Tina thought he looked just so irresistibly pitiful that she cheated a little bit, just to make it somewhat of a fair fight. "Are you okay? That last one to the face really nailed you!" she called from across the yard, as Artie tried, rather unsuccessfully, to clean himself off. "Here, let me help."

Tina pulled the end of her scarf from inside her coat, leaned in close, and began to brush the snow tenderly from Artie's face. _Why's he looking at me that way? Am I invading his space or something?_

There seemed to be something Artie wanted to say, but he either couldn't find the words or the nerve to say it, Tina decided. She lowered the scarf, slowly, gazing into those familiar blue eyes and trying for the life of her to understand what it was.

"Here, you've got some on you, too," said Artie, and he reached a hand to her cheek, where Tina could feel snow sliding across her skin. His fingertips brushed her cheek and Tina felt the spot tingle, and she was sure the sensation wasn't caused by the cold. He had taken off his glove to clean the snow off her face, which seemed strange to Tina until he leaned in and kissed her, lightly on the lips.

"They remind _me_ of you. The snowflakes," Artie added, rather unnecessarily, his hand still cupped around her face. "So light, like they're just kind of…floating through life. Each one completely unique. Kind of unremarkable if you just glance at them quick—what's one snowflake in the middle of a blizzard? But once you take the time to get up close and look at them—I mean _really _look—beautiful. Just…beautiful."

_Nothing is more beautiful than fresh snow_, agreed Tina, and she kissed him back as the snow swirled around them, in the stillness and the quiet.

**Thoughts? Ideas? Let me know! I'm hoping to get the next chapter up before Valentine's Day, but between work and grad school I don't want to make any promises. In the meantime, here's a sneak peek at February: Artie doesn't have a valentine. His little sister begs to differ. After all, a valentine isn't always your girlfriend. Who do you tell your secrets to, share your snacks with and know absolutely everything about?**


	2. February

**A/N: Well, it's good to be back, fellow Gleeks. We continue our trip through the year with Artie and Tina in February. Today, Artie gets some romantic advice from a seasoned pro. Tell me what you think. I'm also taking suggestions for the next chapter, so my question for you is: What memories do Artie and Tina make in March? Enjoy! Yours, Delilah.**

**Disclaimer: Yeah, I own Glee. Amd I've got a bridge in Brooklyn to sell you.**

My Funny Valentine

"Who's your valentine, Artie?"

Artie Abrams was sitting at the dining room table. Across from him, his eight-year-old sister Brooke was sprinkling liberal amounts of silver glitter onto a handcrafted construction paper heart. She paused to admire her handiwork, then fixed her big brother with a quizzical gaze.

"What?"

"Your _valentine._" Brooke smiled a Cheshire cat's grin. Artie could see she wasn't going to let this go. Being an Abrams, she was as genetically predisposed to stubbornness as Kurt Hummel was to flamboyance. It was an unavoidable fact of nature.

"Don't have one. I'm really not that into Valentine's Day, anyway. Let me let you in on a little secret: it's not the best holiday for those of us without girlfriends."

Brooke's eyes widened. "I like Valentine's Day, but _I _don't have a girlfriend."

"Very funny, Brooke, I meant _guys_ without girlfriends. And besides, when you're _eight_, isn't like everyone in your class your valentine?"

She frowned, her lower lip jutting out almost defiantly. "Shows how much _you_ know, Artie Abrams! Your Valentine doesn't have to be your _girlfriend_. Your Valentine is the person who just _gets _you. You know, you share your peanut butter sandwich and they share their pudding cup, even if you only have one spoon. You stand under the same umbrella on a rainy day. You tell each other secrets that you would be embarrassed to tell anybody else." Brooke had abandoned her homemade valentine. She was looking directly at Artie, and Artie thought the peculiar stern look she was giving him befitted someone much older…like their mom. It seemed that, whatever she was trying to say, getting the message across to him was important to her.

"Your Valentine sits next to you in class and on the bus and pretty much anywhere else. It's someone you get in trouble with and know absolutely everything about, and they know absolutely everything about you. Come on, everybody's got one! Well…everybody except losers with no friends. _Who's your Valentine_?"

_You share lunches…tell secrets…get in trouble together…it's someone who just _gets _you_. An array of loosely connected images rushed into Artie's mind: Tina holding an umbrella over both their heads as they walked (and in his case, rolled) home in the rain…the two of them, heads close together, gossiping about Babygate in the choir room…Artie convincing Tina to try out for Glee Club…Tina, stuttering in rage at a crowd of jocks after they taped Artie's wheels together…

Brooke was smirking conspiratorially across the table, snapping Artie out of his reverie. "You've got one, don't you?"

Artie smiled. "Yeah, I've got one." Brooke's grin widened, and she hummed a little as she glued some lacy trim around the edges of her not-quite-perfectly-symmetrical heart.

"So, are you gonna make her a card?" Artie looked up from his homework. Apparently the conversation was not at an end.

"No offense, Brooke, but construction paper valentines stop being cool sometime around third grade."

Her blue eyes, so like the ones he saw looking back at him from the mirror each morning, positively sparkled with mirth. "Are you sure? Girls like that kind of stuff. And I bet boys do, too, even if they say girls are lame and give them cooties."

There was no arguing with that logic. Artie pushed his books aside, took up a piece of red construction paper and a heart-shaped doily and began to craft a replica of his sister's valentine. Brooke studied his handiwork with an appraising eye, occasionally offering advice like "It needs more glitter," and "That bow looks like you tied it in the dark." He put the card down on the table in front of him. "Done!"

"Not yet. You need to add the words."

"What words?" He hastily penned '_Be my Valentine'_ across the top of the heart. "Good enough?"

Brooke snorted. "When we made cards in school, my teacher made _us_ write four whole sentences. Or _more_. Julian even wrote a _poem_ to his Valentine."

"Good for Julian. Seriously, Brooke, I am notwriting a _poem_. And if I'm going to write any kind of message, I am definitely not gonna show it to you. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to finish my homework." With that, Artie piled his schoolbooks into his lap (his sister gently placing the valentine on top) and pushed himself out of the dining room.

"Hey, Artie!" called Brooke at his retreating back, "I think Tina will really like your card!"

* * *

_Dear Tina,_ he wrote. What do you write on a handmade valentine to your _best friend_? A best friend you've been slowly falling in love with since middle school? Though it hurt his pride a little bit to be taking romantic advice from a second grader, Artie found the words flowing straight from his brain to his paper after Brooke's little speech. After a few minutes of frenzied writing, Artie put down his pen and read what he had wrote.

_Dear Tina,_

_You are…_

…_the one who shares my peanut butter sandwich and your pudding cup, even when we only have one spoon._

…_the one who holds the umbrella on a rainy day._

…_the one who I tell the secrets I'd be embarrassed to tell anybody else._

…_the one who sits next to me in class. And in Glee. And everywhere else, for that matter._

…_the one who I get in trouble with._

…_the one who knows me better than I know myself. The one I know best. The one who just __gets__ me._

_You are my best friend and the best thing that ever happened to me. Thank you for simply…being you. _

_Love always,_

_Artie _

**Liked it? Hated it? Know what you'd love to see in March? Sound off! Until next time (not sure when my next update will be, as my muse is unsure what to do with March as of yet)!**


	3. March

**A/N****: **_It's good to be back, Gleeks! I wanted to post last night, but my wireless ran out on me, leaving me unable to update. Before we get started, I just want to thank my awesome reviewers—you guys keep me going when the writer's block gets tough. Please keep the reviews and chapter ideas coming! _

_Disclaimer: Don't own Glee, the Beatles, or a lime slushie. Wish I did, though. Except maybe the lime slushie. There's enough slush in New York as it is._

_On to the story! This month takes us back in time a year, to the March before the Pilot (though we briefly spring forward five months or so). We're back to Tina's POV (I'm trying to alternate between the two)._

Lucky Charm

History tells us one thing: Every society has its caste system. Everyone has their place. Medieval Europe had its serfs and nobles; industrial cities their millionaires' mansions mere miles from tenement-house slums. To coexist was to rub elbows with those of a different station in life.

High school was no different; in fact, one could say it was one of the last strongholds of the old system. Everyone knew their place: seniors asserted their dominance over freshmen, and the jocks and cheerleaders were inherently aware of their superiority over all. And they never hesitated to let it be known.

Tina Cohen-Chang was among the lowest of the low: a pitiful freshman, dressed in peculiar Gothic clothes, with an unmanageable stutter and a wheelchair-bound best friend. She was a social pariah, and as such, Tina's one goal for her freshman year was simple and clear: survival.

Tina's survival strategy had one basic tenet: _Don't get noticed_. Sure, the stutter and the clothes did attract some unwanted attention in addition to repelling people, but Tina endeavored to fade into the background as much as possible. Artie, however, made that difficult in ways Tina couldn't understand.

Sure, he attracted the sort of attention she wanted to circumvent. It was inevitable, really; you just couldn't avoid noticing the kid wheeling himself down the middle of the hall in a wheelchair, accompanied by the weird Gothic girl. Whether you chose to spare them a second thought after spotting them was another story altogether. But in his own, strange way, Artie camouflaged Tina. What jock would stick to teasing her with him around? He protected her in the only way he knew how: by being an infinitely better target. He was her great defender, her lucky charm.

By the time the green crêpe streamers and the tawdry paper shamrocks began appearing in classroom windows, Tina had adopted invisibility with a fervor nothing short of devout. Her days went by much easier when no one bothered her, and today was no exception. Tina had passed her morning playing tic-tac-toe with Mercedes in the back of her math class and doodling in her notebook in biology and English. By the time she was heading to her locker before lunch, Tina was in a surprisingly good mood. Even the weak sunshine that heralded early spring seemed to be cooperating.

"_Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting…little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear…"_

The song wasn't her usual style at all, but it reminded her of _him_, and maybe that's why it jumped to mind. This train of thought didn't help—Tina had enough confusion over her feelings for Artie without singing his songs.

"Hey, look who's not wearing green for St. Paddy's Day, boys! It's the stutterbug!"

_Damn! Why can't they just ditch school and hang out at Murph's drinking green beer on St. Patrick's Day with the rest of the Lima losers?_ Tina debated walking faster but decided against it—the thrill of the chase would only egg the football players on, especially that one with the Mohawk, who seemed to see chasing down losers as a matter of pride. _What was his name again? Aw, who cares…like that'll stop him from throwing me in a dumpster or something. _

Tina maintained her leisurely pace as she heard the footsteps approach her, mentally trying to calculate how many were following her strictly from the sounds of their footfalls. Facing a dead end by the stairwell (and not wanting to provoke a shove down the stairs), she turned around to face a wall of letterman's jackets. _Lime slushies…how original_.

The jock with the Mohawk grinned as he swirled his slushie threateningly in the cup. "'S matter, Elvira? You shy? I thought you were gonna give us a show or something!"

The other jocks chuckled stupidly in appreciation of his lame attempt at humor. Tina just braced herself, waiting for the shower of icy high fructose corn syrup.

"As the Official McKinley Committee for the Wearin' of the Green, it's our job to make sure you're showing your colors on for this festive occasion," said another jock. This one was bigger than most of the others, and probably smarter as well. _He _does_ seem to have a more extensive vocabulary…_

"I-I'm not Irish," Tina began, hoping to stall them long enough for a teacher to walk down the hall. She cast an eye around for the nearest girls' room…_no_ self-respecting jock would follow her in there. Perhaps the slushie shower could be avoided altogether.

"_E-e-everyone's_ Irish on S-St. Patrick's Day, S-s-stutterbug!" mocked what seemed to be the dumbest of the assembled jocks, and Tina felt herself take the tiniest step backward before she heard a very familiar voice coming from somewhere down the hall.

"Hey! What's the matter, you guys can't find anything better to do? I thought you usually spend lunch building towers out of food or something…"

Tina didn't know where Artie had come from or what he was doing there. She didn't hear what the jocks said in response to Artie's understated taunt, nor did she care. Her mind was entirely centered on one thought: _What is he thinking? _

No member of the McKinley High School's social underworld provoked the jocks. It was suicide. Perhaps Artie thought they would go easy on him, being in a wheelchair and all. Tina silently prayed he couldn't be that naïve. Her only consolation—small and meaningless as it was—was that Artie's intrusion seemed to have achieved what he was going for: every one of the jocks had turned his back on Tina. Could her good luck charm get them both out of this dry and unscathed?

"What's your problem, Wheels? Can't we have a little fun with your girlfriend? Who knows, maybe when we're done, she'll sing for us again!"

Tina didn't know why she smiled when she saw Artie's cheeks burn at this latest comment. There was nothing remotely funny about their current predicament, really…

"All right, I'm going to need to see hall passes from all of you. Standard biweekly midday hall sweeps, you understand."

It was that Spanish teacher, Schuester. Tina frowned slightly as he approached. Spanish wasn't her best subject, and she didn't really know what to expect from this man. He seemed almost too good-natured, and coming from someone who spent the majority of her waking hours with Artie Abrams, _that_ was quite an achievement.

"Uh, just stopping at my locker on my way to math," said the Mohawked jock, and the sea of jerseys and letterman jackets parted and started to disperse.

The Spanish teacher fixed his gaze on the two remaining students.

"And do you two have a class to be heading off to as well?" he asked, though in a different sort of voice that led Tina to believe that maybe biweekly midday hall sweeps weren't so standard a procedure after all.

"L-lunch," she heard herself saying, and the teacher nodded. Tina began pushing Artie toward the cafeteria, looking over her shoulder once to see Mr. Schuester facing away from her, shaking his head slowly, as though to himself. She could only wonder what that was about.

"So," came Artie's voice from in front of Tina, "are you gonna finish it?"

"Finish what?" asked Tina, completely nonplussed.

"The _song,_"he insisted. "You were really good! I never knew you could sing like that."

Tina felt the blush creep straight to the roots of her hair. She hoped Artie wouldn't turn around and notice, but found that unlikely, as she always noticed it when _he_ blushed. It was hard _not_ to; it was inexplicably adorable.

"You should go out for Glee Club or something, with a voice like yours," he continued, and Tina jerked her mind back to the here-and-now. "_Glee Club?_ S-seriously, Artie, d-don't they pick on me enough? Joining Glee Club would be like p-p-painting a target on my back!"

Artie raised an eyebrow. Tina could tell he was holding back a grin, so she continued. "If it's no big deal, w-why don't _you_ join?"

He looked thoughtful, then challenging. "I would if you did," he said slyly, as though he were goading her into a response. His eyes danced like the blue center of a flame, and Tina closed her eyes as she shook her head adamantly. There was something about those cursed blue eyes that had some strange power over her, making her say things against her better judgment.

"Come on, what's the worst that can happen? I mean, sure, you'd probably get kicked off the Cheerios and I'd lose my football scholarship and therefore my shot at All-American. And we'd stop being incredibly popular, and I guess Homecoming court would be a bit of a longshot, but other than that…"

Tina laughed in spite of herself.

* * * * *

He was her great defender, her lucky charm. He protected her from her own doubts, her own uncertainty in a way she thought he wasn't even aware of. It was he who had spotted the sign-up sheet on the bulletin board, he who circumvented her last attempt at a refusal by loaning her a pen, and he who now sat behind the last row of seats in the auditorium, nodding encouragingly and waving as she stood towards the center of the dark and (in her opinion) rather desolate stage. It was his face and only his she focused on as Mr. Schuester signaled her to begin and she stepped forward.

He was the only one who she trusted herself to sing for. He was the only one she knew wouldn't judge.

"T-Tina C. 'I K-Kissed A Girl'."

He was her lucky charm. He would be her strength.

**A/N: **_Wow, March was tricky! I'm still not sure if I'm thrilled with it. Some of these months are really pushing me to think outside the box. As per usual, I will have nothing but love for those of you that __**review**__ and lots of long distance hugs for anyone who cares to suggest an __**idea for a future month**__. Next up: April. I'm not married to the idea yet, but we may see April showers leading into May flowers…_


	4. April

**A/N:** A couple of orders of business before we get down to the story.

First: I want to sincerely thank the equally awesome **Artemis Rayne **and **Miss Maggie** who reviewed my last chapter. I was having a lot of trouble with March and getting such nice feedback made it all worthwhile. A belated thank-you goes to everyone who reviewed chapters one and two—reading your reviews definitely made me smile (and thanks, **.** for making a suggestion for March). Please keep them coming!

Second: On a less happy note, I feel the need to beg everyone to **please review!** Your feedback and suggestions are where I get my new ideas from and without them, some months may never come to fruition. As of this posting, chapter 3 has had 210 hits since it was posted on Thursday (which makes me happy). However, it got two reviews (see above). This makes me feel a little down, so here is my plea: _please, please review!_ It only takes a minute and not only does it inspire me to write more, it really does brighten my day (especially after coming home from work).

All right, all begging, pleading and ranting stops here. Once again, my thanks to everyone who's added this to their story updates and as usual, enjoy!

By the way, if you've read "Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone", April (and January, for that matter) are variations on the same theme. I believe my perchant for weather-related fluff can be explained by the complicated mathematical formula on my profile page.

Dance Between the Raindrops

It was Tina who had taught Artie to love the rain. Not downpours, he didn't think he'd _ever_ be able to honestly say he loved them, but spring showers.

"_Raindrops keep falling on my head_…" she murmured under her breath as she reached a hand out to feel the raindrops on her palm. The totally impractical covered walkway wasn't doing the best job of keeping McKinley students dry as they shuffled to class. None of them stopped to watch Stutterfly and the wheelchair kid watching the rain.

"This is the best kind of rain," said Tina absentmindedly. Artie took a minute to digest that statement. _What _is_ it with Tina and precipitation? Snow, rain…she likes it all._ "I didn't know the quality of the rain meant that much to you," he joked. Tina smirked at him.

"Don't tease me! What I mean is that it's light enough to feel refreshing but heavy enough that when you're lying in bed you can still hear it tapping against the windows." Artie considered this, and Tina looked pensive for a moment. "It's the best rain for dancing in."

And without further comment, Tina dropped her schoolbag at the foot of the nearest pillar and walked straight out into the rain, arms spread wide and face upturned towards the stormy heavens. She turned around, clearly enjoying the sensation of the raindrops against her skin.

Artie watched as she spun around in circles, still looking upward, raindrops splattering her face. She seemed completely in harmony with the steady beat of the raindrops on the roof. It was graceful, almost a ballet of sorts. He smiled, and as though she felt his smile from where she stood, she stopped, mid-spin, to face him.

"Come on out!" she called, and for once, Artie didn't give the rain or the chair or the passers-by a second thought. There was nothing but Tina, Tina and her smile and the way the raindrops crystallized in her hair, like tiny diamonds.

He rolled out beside her and tilted his own head back, trying to capture that same feeling she seemed to be possessed with. "What do we do now?" he asked.

"Dance. Don't you want to be able to look back and say 'I'll never forget the time I danced in the rain'?" And without waiting for a response, Tina reached out her hands to Artie. He took her hand without reserve.

Holding tight to Tina's hands, Artie spun in circles with her, oblivious to anything but the blurred shapes around them and the sound of Tina's ringing laughter.

A bell rang in the distance, bringing them both back to earth. Time for class.

As they headed back towards the covered walkway, grabbed their schoolbags (mercifully left unstolen by the rest of the student body) and shook the rainwater from their hair, neither Artie nor Tina could think of anything to say. The silence lifted only when they made to go their separate ways—he to English, she to gym.

"Hey Tina?" Artie laid a hand on her arm as she made to pass him in the direction of the girls' locker room.

"Yeah?"

A warm smile appeared on his face. "I'll never forget that time we danced in the rain."

His smile widened when she reciprocated with one of her own. "Neither will I, Artie."

* * * * * * *

That afternoon, there were many whispers in the back of classes and in the halls. Whispers of "Did you see those two Glee Club kids out there in the rain before?"

Oftentimes this comment was followed by some sort of snide remark, or perhaps a derisive laugh. Karovsky, of the hockey team, was heard in the lunchroom promising that if those Glee freaks liked getting wet so much, he'd be happy to buy them each a slushie especially for the occasion. Mike Chang overheard this last comment and passed the word along to Artie and Tina. They didn't care. It was nothing worse than what they could usually expect, at least.

And while there were plenty of kids who scoffed, there was also a significant amount (girls, mostly) who secretly wished that someone would have asked _them_ to dance in the rain.

**A/N:** I hope everyone enjoyed April! I was never a fan of all that 'April showers' stuff, mostly because my birthday is in April and growing up it really sucked to have everyone associate it with rain. However, in keeping with the 'April showers bring May flowers' theme, (and as a thank-you for reading my little speech on the merits of reviewing before), here's a sneak peek at May:

_Monday, May 1, 2006_

On the first day of May in sixth grade, Tina walked to her first class—American History—to find a flower resting on her desk. She looked around, confused—who had put it there? What was it for?...

..."You know, Tina, back in Victorian times, ladies and gentlemen didn't really talk about their feelings with each other. It just wasn't considered polite. Instead of _telling_ someone how they felt, they used flowers to send messages. In time, flower messages developed into a sort of language. Maybe someone's trying to send _you_ a message."

Tina looked at her teacher in surprise. She had run a number of possible explanations through her mind, but this was certainly not one of them. "So wh-what does it m-mean?"

_Tune in next time to see what happens! In the meantime, __**review**__! I promise I will love you for it (and I don't want my muse to dry up and die from lack of encouragement and ideas)! And start thinking about __**June**__…_


	5. May

**A/N****: **Here we are, in May already! Figuratively, of course. I must sincerely thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter—6 at last count! It's not a cascade of replies, but it's a definite increase and it made me happy, so I thank you all! Please, keep the reviews coming! Let's try and top 6, which is my new record for a chapter. Records were _made_ to be broken.

Sorry for the wait, as May has been mostly done since before March was even finished. It's almost parent teacher night at school, so I had to write out 25 report cards, comments and all, and submit them to my principal as of yesterday. She'll probably read the comments, hate them and make me redo them all from scratch. And let me tell you, it is _time consuming_. Not to mention boring. Such is life, I suppose. But anyway, I'm back with…ta-da! The longest chapter yet! Hooray! Doesn't it just leave you _gleeful_? An update, I mean, not my ability to make bad puns. Or both, if you prefer. I'm not picky.

Fluff warning ahead: May + flower symbolism almost always equals fluff. You've been warned.

* * *

Bring May Flowers

Traditionally, May Day celebrated spring fertility and the coming of summer. Revelers would leave bouquets, baskets of springtime flowers and small tokens on neighbors' doorsteps in secret. If they got caught, they got a kiss. Young suitors went a step further and planted trees under the windows of the girls they wished to marry. That was all in olden times, though. This is a modern world.

_Monday, May 1, 2006_

On the first day of May in sixth grade, Tina walked into her first class—American History—to find a flower resting on her desk. She looked around, confused—who had put it there? What was it for? Tina's gaze scanned the classroom, but as she had arrived early enough to snag her favorite spot in the back corner of the room (where no one would bother her), the room was completely empty. As Tina picked up the flower in confusion, her history teacher entered the room. Perhaps she could clear up the mystery.

"M-M-Ms. Collins?" The young woman looked up, her eyes full of barely disguised sympathy. She knew that the poor girl's stutter kept her from talking in class much, _that_ much had become obvious when she'd tried to assign Tina that oral report on the Missouri compromise. But though she was shy and rather asocial, Ms. Collins could see that Tina was also kindhearted and friendly. She had seen her in the halls, walking beside that friend of hers, Artie Abrams, and laughing at his jokes. Ms. Collins though they complemented each other nicely. Two pieces of the same puzzle. In their different ways, they needed each other.

"What's wrong, Tina?"

"S-someone left this flower on my d-desk. Is it y-yours?"

Ms. Collins smiled. She may not have been the most popular girl in school, but Tina was cute and sweet, once she opened up a bit. And Ms. Collins was willing to bet that Tina had made an impression on several of her classmates, even if they never mentioned it—someone worth leaving a token for.

"Are you sure it wasn't left for _you_, Tina? You always sit in the same seat, and it wouldn't be hard for someone to sneak in here before class and leave it for you." She walked over to Tina's desk and held out a hand for the flower. "May I?" Tina handed over the flower, looking nonplussed as Ms. Collins examined it.

"You know, Tina, back in Victorian times, ladies and gentlemen didn't really talk about their feelings with each other. It just wasn't considered polite." _Kind of like here,_ the teacher thought. _These kids would be teased mercilessly if they admitted they really liked someone…especially if that 'someone' wasn't particularly popular. "_Instead of _telling_ someone how they felt, they used flowers to send messages. In time, flower messages developed into a sort of language. Maybe someone's trying to send _you_ a message."

Tina was surprised. She had run a number of possible explanations through her mind, but this was certainly not one of them. In fact, she would have readily believed that a plant had spontaneously sprouted out of the desktop and deposited the flower there before dreaming up an explanation of this sort. "So wh-what does it m-mean?"

Ms. Collins smiled and indicated the flower in her hand. "A daisy stands for innocence and youth. It also conveys a sense of gentleness. It seems to me like someone is complementing you."

* * * * *

_Tuesday, May 1, 2007_

Tina arrived at her math class on May first in a dour mood. The sky was a dull, stormy gray and a weak sort of rain was falling—not hard enough to qualify as a real rainstorm but enough to get you sufficiently wet and uncomfortable. The kind of rain that was just hard enough to dampen hair, clothes, homework through closed schoolbags and, above all, spirits.

Tina dropped into her seat and pulled her notebook out of her schoolbag, groaning as she saw how the rain had seeped through the stitching of her bag and reached her notebook. As a result, the edges of the pages were soaked and sticking together and some of the words were starting to blur. She made to toss the sodden book onto her desk in frustration but froze when she spotted the daffodil on her desk.

In a rush of memory, she remembered the conversation she'd had with her history teacher last year about the language of flowers and hurried off as soon as class ended to Ms. Collins' room, where she was dismissing a class of sixth graders. She held up the flower without a word and Ms. Collins' eyes sparkled.

"Let's see…daffodils—chivalry, regard, devotion, unrequited love. This flower was left by someone who holds you in high esteem, Tina. Someone who's apparently very dedicated to you. Maybe even a crush, though it seems he thinks you don't notice him. It looks like you may have a secret admirer, Tina."

Tina didn't know what to believe. In the market for a second opinion, she showed Artie the flower at lunch. He seemed very interested in Ms. Collins' flower symbology, which Tina now relayed to him.

"Yeah, come to think of it, my mom mentioned something like that once!" He grinned at the recollection. "She's all into that flower stuff. My sister Molly came home from school with some yellow roses that a boy in her class gave her for her sweet sixteen last year. My dad was getting crazy overprotective about it, asking all kinds of crazy questions about who this boy was, what his intentions were, his Social Security number and latest credit score…you know, standard dad stuff. That is, until my mom pointed out that yellow roses mean friendship, not passion, and my dad didn't have to worry until Molly brought home red ones." Tina giggled as Artie continued, "I didn't know it applied to other flowers as well."

"Well, _I_ didn't know _you_ knew about all this _girly stuff_!"

* * * * *

_Thursday, May 1, 2008_

Tina approached English with trepidation. Would she find another flower message? She had found one without fail for the past two years and, sure enough, there was a perfect sprig of purple lilac lying in the pencil tray. The way the sunlight streamed through the classroom window and illuminated the fragile petals looked surreal, almost eerie.

Tina tried composing a list of possible admirers in the margins of her copy of _To Kill A Mockingbird_, but was relatively unsuccessful, as she crossed off each prospective suitor with a word or two. _Nah, that one's ridiculous, he doesn't even know me…not _him_, he's creepy, he tried to sneak into the girls' locker room last month…the only time he's ever spoken to me was to ask for a pen in biology two years ago…_ Twice, she suspected Mr. Stewart knew she wasn't paying attention, as he kept looking over in her direction. She was reasonably sure he wouldn't call on her, though—she could tell that the stutter kind of freaked him out. Which was the whole point, of course.

Ms. Collins was putting a sheaf of exam papers into her satchel. She looked up as Tina entered the room, looking as though she'd been waiting for her. "That day again, eh, Tina? What is it this time?"

"It's a p-purple flower—a l-lilac, I think…I'm n-not sure, my parents a-aren't really into g-gardening or anything…"

Ms. Collins raised an eyebrow, barely concealing a grin. "You're right. It is a lilac."

Tina waited expectantly. Surely the teacher didn't assume Tina knew what the flower signified? It was probably something completely random, relatively obscure…

"A lilac means the first stirrings of love."

Tina dropped _To Kill A Mockingbird_ and all of her science notes on the floor in surprise.

* * * * *

_Friday, May 1, 2009_

The following year was full of an overabundance of changes for Tina. She was off to a new school: McKinley High. Junior high had been tough, but high school was filled with a whole new world of terrifying possibilities. With her black clothes, combat boots, safety pins, blue-streaked hair and persistent stutter, Tina became a frequent target of the jocks and cheerleaders. Football players spilled drinks on her; cheerleaders stole her clothes out of her gym locker and hid them. In the spirit of any good two-for-one sale, the teasing and bullying increased when they all took notice of how the stuttering Goth girl regularly hung out with the wheelchair kid. Tina envied Artie his composure in these situations; some days, she couldn't help crying in the girls' room between classes. Her main objective was to survive the year, but as May approached, Tina's thoughts inevitably strayed back to the mysterious flower messages. Surely she would not receive another one; whoever had left her those sweet, old-fashioned messages had parted ways with her when she had gone off to high school. Besides, everyone here seemed to either hate her or ignore her. Tina had decided long ago that the only reason whoever it was had left her the first few messages was most likely because they felt sorry for her. But there was no pity for her anymore. Not here.

Her conviction was reinforced when she made her way to her usual desk in Spanish and saw nothing but the smooth, slightly graffitied desktop. In a listless, last-ditch attempt, she checked under the desk. The cheerleader in front of her turned around and said, in a completely spacey voice that convinced Tina that this girl was just a few sombreros short of a fiesta, "It's no good. I tried sticking the answers to the gum under the desk, but it just didn't help at all. I don't think I'll ever figure out why."

Tina tried to squash her disappointment. She hadn't expected a flower, really, so she wasn't sure why she felt that sinking sensation inside of her.

So it was with genuine surprise that Tina returned to her locker between classes and found a delicate, white blossom: a camellia. She showed it to Artie, who took it with interest. "Another of your secret flower messages? What kind is it this year?" he asked.

"I thought y-_you_ would know, you're the b-botanist, aren't you?"

Artie sighed. "You tell one amusing anecdote and next thing you know, you're branded for life…"

Tina spent lunch in the library, looking up "The Language of Flowers" online.

_Camellia:_ _loveliness, perfection, admiration. My destiny is in your hands. A good luck token for a man. _

* * * * *

_Saturday, May 1, 2010_

Sophomore year. It had been a crazy year, to say the least. If someone had approached Tina last year and told her that in a few short months, she'd have joined the Glee Club, danced a shockingly provocative routine at a pep assembly, performed a solo—more than once!—in front of people, dropped the stutter charade, briefly dated her best friend and befriended jocks and cheerleaders, she would've laughed. And perhaps checked to make sure she wasn't talking to that airheaded cheerleader (whose name turned out to be Brittany). But Tina had truly surprised herself with her newfound daring this year.

With her mom holed up in the home office, on a conference call all morning and her dad in Chicago on business, Tina had spent 30 minutes searching for something edible for breakfast before showering and heading out to the grocery store to pick up a box of cereal that hadn't expired in 1999. She couldn't really blame her parents; they were rarely home for breakfast, and Tina wasn't exactly a cereal addict. Still, it would've been nice to wake up to a hot breakfast for once…

Tina froze about ten feet from her house, tightening her grip on the grocery bag so as not to drop it. There was someone lingering in front of her house. A very familiar someone.

Artie Abrams was leaning over, laying a single flower on the front steps of her house. "Artie?" she asked, "What are you doing?"

His head jerked up at the sound of his own name. One hand closed instinctively around the flower. Tina held out her hand for it, and Artie knew better than to play dumb. He had been caught red-handed. He handed it to her without a word.

It was a forget-me-not. Remembrance. True love.

"All this time? Even after…everything?"

Artie took a deep breath before launching into an explanation. An explanation that came out almost unintelligibly fast, in Tina's opinion. "Look, I'm not asking you to forget everything that's happened between us. It's been…pretty tough, at times. And even though I still can't understand _why_ you…you, know, did what you did—I was just as wrong. I never let you explain, like I just expected it to go away or something. But even when we weren't speaking, I couldn't stop thinking about you."

He seemed to be fighting the blush that was creeping into his cheeks. Tina found it endearing, but she could tell that he was frustrated with showing his embarrassment. _I don't blame him…if he's trying to say what I _think_ he's trying to say, I don't think I'd be able to get the words out…_

"I tried for a while, because I kept telling myself it would never work out, but I couldn't get you off my mind. I think…I think we should try again, Tina."

She looked at the flower in her hand. _Remembrance. True love._

"You messed up," said Tina, and Artie looked down shamefacedly. He started to speak, but Tina held up a hand to silence his mingled apologies and pleas for forgiveness.

"You messed up," she repeated simply. "I saw you. You got caught. Flower messages are _supposed_ to be anonymous."

Artie looked absolutely speechless, so Tina continued. "You know, back in the old days when they made up all this May Day stuff, people who got caught leaving secret messages and gifts had to pay the price."

Artie's eyes darted up to meet Tina's. "And what would that be?"

Tina leaned in and kissed him, and it was blissful oblivion, thought Tina, after months and months of wanting just this, that it would finally work out this way. Finally! _About time!_

May Day was a day of romantic traditions. In times past, lovers would stay out in the woods all night, making love, gathering flower blossoms and watching the sun rise.

On May 1, 2010, Artie and Tina finally said the things they should have said to each other months, maybe years before. They thought it better if they finally got it all out, and they talked until Tina felt her voice growing hoarse from overuse. After a while, they ran out of things to say and called a mutual halt to the apologies in favor of just sitting in silence. As they stretched out on a picnic blanket in the park, Tina's head on Artie's shoulder, watching the sunset bathe the landscape in an orange glow and listening to the sounds of kids enjoying the warm evening on the playground, a sudden thought occurred to Tina.

"I was right, wasn't I? You really do know about all this stuff!"

Artie laughed. "I'll never live this down, will I? Since we're being honest, I can truthfully tell you that I am no flower expert. Like I said, my mom's into this sort of stuff. She gave me the idea."

Tina raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You asked your _mom_ to teach you how to leave secret flower messages for a girl?"

"Are you _kidding_? And have her launch into the Inquisition? No way, after she mentioned all that flower stuff to Dad and Molly, I thought it sounded like a good idea and looked it up online. Like I want my mom saying how it's the most adorable thing she's ever seen and telling every single person she knows…I have _some_ pride, thank you very much."

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Recipes for excellent desserts? Tell me, do!_

_In the spirit of being a nice person and giving a little sneak peek, here's what we've got coming up in June: it's graduation day, and New Directions gives one last performance for the Class of 2012._

Artie could feel the tension in some of his fellow Glee Clubbers as they stood politely waiting for Mr. Schue to finish his little speech. He didn't quite understand—it was just a song, after all. They had practiced it a million times in rehearsal. It had been possibly the only song choice in the past three years that hadn't resulted in bickering. Rachel had taken the songsheet and nodded, smiling; Mercedes hadn't complained that they were doing _yet another_ Broadway standard. And when Mr. Schue had announced that they would be performing the song as a choral arrangement—with no solos to fight over—everyone had seemed pleased with his logic (though Artie could've sworn he saw Rachel pouting a little out of the corner of his eye). Maybe they were just tied up in the emotion of the day.

_Yours, until next time, Delilah_

_**Don't Stop Reviewin'!**__ (Another indescribably clever pun! I couldn't resist!)_


	6. June

**A/N:** No, I didn't fall off a cliff. Work did give me rather a beating these past weeks, though—report cards, parent-teacher conferences, my clinical observation, pre- and post-observation conferences. I'm on spring break, though. Thank God!

June already, Gleeks! For this month, we're jumping ahead a couple of years to the Glee kids' high school graduation (for creative purposes, we are going to assume that all original N.D. members are in fact in the same graduating class, Puck's missing math classes nonwithstanding).

And in case you're wondering, "You'll Never Walk Alone" wasn't my graduation song. My 900+ member graduating class had "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell. Did any of you guys have interesting graduation songs?

Anyway, if you've never heard the song, I recommend listening to it. It's very much a graduation song in every sense of the word. And Rachel would have approved, as it's originally from a musical (_Carousel_, in which it's sung during a graduation ceremony)!

Don't own Glee, "You'll Never Walk Alone", or even that cute TV commercial where all those moms sing "You'll Never Walk Alone" to their kids. I do, however, own Schue's graduation speech. That is, until FOX writes a better one. Small consolation.

* * *

You'll Never Walk Alone

"And now, before we close this celebration of the William McKinley Graduating Class of 2012, I would like to introduce Will Schuester and the graduating seniors of the McKinley High Glee Club, who will lead us in the Class of 2012's graduation song!"

As the polite applause from the parents and graduates died down, Principal Figgins shuffled off the stage to make way for the Glee Club. Artie tried to catch Tina's eye as Mr. Shuester stepped up to say a few words, but Rachel's hair, set in large, elaborate curls for the occasion, was blocking Tina's face from view.

"As you all probably know, graduating Glee Club members have always led the singing at their graduation ceremonies, but this year has special significance for us, because today, _all_ of the original members of New Directions will be performing together for the last time as McKinley students…"

Artie could feel the tension in some of his fellow Glee Clubbers as they stood politely waiting for Mr. Schue to finish his little speech. He didn't quite understand—it was just a song, after all. They had practiced it a million times in rehearsal. It had been possibly the only song choice in the past three years that hadn't resulted in bickering. Rachel had taken the songsheet and nodded, smiling; Mercedes hadn't complained that they were doing _yet another_ Broadway standard. And when Mr. Schue had announced that they would be performing the song as a choral arrangement—with no solos to fight over—everyone had seemed pleased with his logic (though Artie could've sworn he saw Rachel pouting a little out of the corner of his eye). Maybe they were just tied up in the emotion of the day.

"…And while it's hard to see all of you going your separate ways, off into that great big world out there, it's comforting for us, as your teachers and parents and friends to know that you'll always have someone behind you all the way. You will always have people here who are rooting for you to succeed. From all of us here at McKinley, know that you will never walk alone."

_Nice job, Mr. Schue,_ thought Artie. _Short and to the point. Although that part about going off into 'that great big world out there' wasn't exactly a Shakespearean sonnet, it was definitely an improvement over Coach Sylvester's speech about how her stint in the Special Forces taught her more about overcoming adversity than any of our trivial high school problems ever could._

Mr. Schue acknowledged the second smattering polite applause and stepped aside as the accompanist stuck up the beginning chords. The Glee Club took a collective breath and launched immediately into what could be considered their farewell performance.

_When you walk through the storm, hold your head up high_

_And don't be afraid of the dark_

_At the end of the storm is a golden light,_

_And the sweet silver song of a lark_

_Walk on through the wind, walk on through the rain_

_Though your dreams be tossed and blown, _

_Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart_

_And you'll never walk alone_

_Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart_

_And you'll never walk alone,_

_You'll never walk alone!_

By the end of the first verse, ninety percent of the parents were in tears. Artie spotted Mrs. Hudson sobbing unashamedly into a white handkerchief and even Mr. Hummel was seen brushing away a single, errant tear. As the song continued, Brittany started pulling Kleenex out of the sleeve of her graduation gown and passing them surreptitiously to various Glee Club members.

Despite the fact that she had been insisting for weeks that "it's just another performance," Rachel was certainly getting a little teary-eyed on Artie's right and Quinn choked up completely towards the end of the song, when she spotted her little girl in the audience. Seeing Quinn over towards the left, starting to lose her composure startled Artie for a second, until he realized that the thing that had really startled him was Rachel grabbing his hand on his other side. _How 'unprofessional', she'd say_, he thought, suppressing a laugh.

The song came to an end to thunderous applause from the audience—it seemed that the finality of the occasion had persuaded even the jocks to push aside their contempt for the Glee Club in order to really feel the music. The Glee Club took a quick bow and trooped off the stage, some with their arms around each other's shoulders; a few weeping openly.

_What is _wrong _with these guys?_ thought Artie again. _It's just a song! It's not like we'll never see each other again…_

Then all of a sudden, Artie's mind was flooded with a stream of images. And he realized.

Never again would he roll into Glee rehearsal after a long day at class. Never again would he park himself amongst Tina, Mercedes and Kurt, indulging in the latest gossip before the start of rehearsal. Never would they watch Mercedes bicker with Rachel over solos, or Kurt mutter mutinously after every single one of his costume ideas was rejected. No more bus rides to competition. No crazy homework assignments involving mash-ups or ballads or any of it. This was it.

Artie felt a sudden tightening in his throat and immediately began mentally steeling himself not to go to pieces. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked around to see Tina, giving him a rather watery grin.

"It's not over, you know."

"It's not?" Artie had been telling himself it wasn't really over for weeks, but in the last minute or so he had decided that he had been as unequivocally wrong as it was humanly possible to be.

Tina, however, was insistent. "It's not. We'll still see each other, and we'll still be friends…we can even sing together still, if we want. Things don't have to change. Sure, we won't all be in the same school any more, but we're still the same losers we always were. We've got each other, no matter what."

And as he looked out over his fellow Glee Club members—some still sobbing, some smiling in a bittersweet sort of way, some hugging each other or otherwise posing for photos—Artie realized that no matter where they went or what happened, there was a bond they all shared. They would never walk alone.

* * *

_Thoughts? Ideas? Hope you guys enjoyed June (which came out a little differently than I had pictured it) and that it was worth the wait. I haven't even started July yet, so I'm not sure when my next update may be—hopefully before the end of spring break! Until then, thanks once more for all of your reviews and alerts! They keep me going._

_July will feature some fun with sparklers. I'm not sure if they're legal or not in Ohio, but that never seemed to make much of a difference here in New York. _

_Don't Stop Reviewin'!_

_Yours, Delilah_


	7. July

_A/N: I'm back, Gleeks, only a couple of days before Glee itself returns (about which I am very excited!) Many of the features of the Abrams family Fourth of July party are taken from my own family parties, so writing the scene was rather nostalgic for me._

_I'm taking suggestions for August--I've had one already, but I'm open to more, so keep 'em coming! And as always, thanks for all the feedback you've given me so far--you guys are incredible!_

_The usual disclaimers apply._

* * *

Sparks Fly

The Abrams' backyard was rather noisy. There were people scattered everywhere, standing in small groups and conversing in cheerful, relaxed voices. Mr. Abrams was at the grill, wearing a ridiculous apron that proclaimed him the "Boss of the Sauce" and a warm smile at the sight of his backyard so full of friends and family. His wife, searching for more plastic cups, wore and identical grin. Tina smiled as well. It was cute, really, to see the two of them so happy.

Every July, the Abrams hosted an Independence Day barbecue and every year since they had first become friends, Artie had invited Tina. Sure, it wasn't like some of the other Fourth of July parties she'd heard talk of—she knew one of the guys on the football team held a kegger every Fourth w\hen his parents went off to their time-share in Cancun. It usually ended with the drunken jocks attempting to set off fireworks. Last year, one of them managed to destroy the next door neighbor's mailbox.

But the Abrams family barbecue was different. There was no pressure to get drunk and act stupid. The food was always good and the company…well, in Tina's personal opinion, the company couldn't get better. She stole a glance at Artie, who was too preoccupied to see her staring at the moment, as he was gazing at the food and trying hard to decide what he wanted to sample first.

"Decisions, decisions," teased a voice that interrupted Tina's thoughts. She jumped as the words brought her back down to Earth and looked around in what she hoped was a casual fashion. She was relieved when she saw that Molly Abrams' comment had been directed not at Tina, but at her younger brother, drawing him from his contemplation of the food.

"Well, Molly, not everyone follows your tried-and-true method of taking one of everything," he replied with a grin, and Molly winked at him. "Well, as long as I can still look good in my swimsuit, I don't see why I can't indulge. I just think that instead of ogling the buffet, you should divert your attention to the lovely young lady sitting here all alone. Honestly, didn't Mom teach you any manners?" and as Artie blushed, his sister sauntered off, chuckling to herself and sparing Tina a conspiratorial grin.

Artie turned back to Tina. "Sorry if I was ignoring you," he said. "My sister can never mind her own business. I hope she didn't embarrass you."

Tina snorted. "Artie, I've been around your family for years. They feel more like family than my own parents sometimes—I think they feel they _have _to embarrass me every now and then. It's only fair, and besides, it gives them a chance to lay off each other. And you, of course," she added, but by this point, her comments were drowned out by Artie's laugh.

They fell into a fairly awkward silence. Things had gotten better between them over the past few months; they had even decided to give dating a try again, but since both were so determined to 'make it work' this time around, reminders of how everything had crashed and burned last time sometimes popped up in all their awkward glory, filling the space between them like an invisible balloon.

The silence was broken as Mr. Abrams called out that the steak he was grilling was finally done, and Tina and Artie's table was suddenly crowded with several more people—not all of them familiar to Tina—each with a plate laden with food. A couple of the newcomers engaged her in conversation, and by the time the table began to clear again, with everyone going off to refill their glass or chat with someone they just spotted, the awkward silence that had sprung up between the two of them was pretty much forgotten. It was growing dark now, and Mrs. Abrams had lit the full assortment of lanterns and party lights that were draped along the fence and hanging from the canopy.

"So, Tina," said Artie, sounding grateful that he could finally talk to her without having to lean over the two of his dad's work friends that had managed to insert themselves between him and Tina. "You never really told me why you keep coming to this thing every year. I mean, it's kind of lame—my dad in that apron, my mom's cake with the berries on top arranged to look like the American flag, that she got from Good Housekeeping or something, my brother and sisters acting…well, like themselves. Why do you put up with all this every year?"

Tina gaped just a little. _Doe he seriously not know why I come? I thought it was obvious!_ "Well…I guess it's just nice to have a normal Fourth of July. The last year I stayed with my parents for the Fourth was when they took me on that cruise, so I spent our country's birthday on an island in the Bahamas with a calypso band and some guy from Minnesota or something walking around in an American flag track suit. Your family is so normal—" At this, Artie raised his eyebrows, clearly in disbelief that the Abrams could _ever_ qualify as 'normal' in his opinion. "—and I have a good time every year. Besides," she added with a somewhat sly look, "I get to trick you into spending more time with me, so it's all planned out."

At that moment, Brooke Abrams bounded out in front of Tina, pigtails bobbing and one sleeve of her sundress askew. "Dad says it's dark enough for fireworks!" she said, her excitement evident in her slightly raised voice. "Come _on_," she added, running around to push Artie from behind…or at least try to do so. Tina chortled and reached out a hand. "Alright, Brooke, come on…Artie's a big boy, he can handle himself…come on, let's head out front."

Five minutes later found Artie, Tina and a thoroughly excited Brooke parked on the Abrams family lawn as various party guests made themselves comfortable and Mr. Abrams started off his annual amateur fireworks display. "Sparklers!" called Molly, dropping a box in Artie's lap before taking a second box off with her as she joined her college friends. Artie opened the box and pulled out three sparklers. Handing one to Brooke and one to Tina, Artie took one for himself and held it out to light it in the citronella candle that was burning low on the doorstep.

Tina squinted as she touched the tip of her sparkler to Artie's and it burst into life, crackling and occasionally sending white-hot sparks flying. She twirled it around, watching the trail of light blaze for mere seconds in the darkened sky before fading.

Brooke, who had settled herself cross-legged on the ground in front of her brother, jumped back to her feet and began waving her sparkler in straight, precise, almost rigid motions. "See if you can write your name!" she urged, and sure enough, Tina could see the ghost of the letters B-R-O-O-K-E, written in childish capitals in midair.

Tina met Artie's eyes and, as he grinned at her, she knew she mirrored his smile. "T-I-oh! It burned out!"

"Don't worry, mine did too," conceded Artie, who was tossing the charred remains of his spent sparkler onto the doorstep and rummaging in the box for three fresh ones. Brooke was already holding her hand out for a replacement, clearly enjoying herself immensely. Tina couldn't help smiling; her enthusiasm was infectious. And it didn't hurt that seeing Artie at home with his siblings was incredibly endearing—there was something adorable about the way they teased each other good-naturedly.

It took two more tries before Artie and Tina managed to write their names—first and last, as Brooke requested—before their sparklers burned out. The air smelled of smoke and one of Tina's fingers stung where she had singed it on a sparkler, but she was filled with a great contentment. When she lowered her sparkler and stole another glance at Artie, she was surprised to see, over the sparks flying between him, that he had met her eyes. There was no awkward silence this time; just a serenity that let her know that everything was going to be fine between them.

* * *

_What are your thoughts? Whatever they are, let me know!_

_Don't Stop Reviewin',_

_Delilah_


	8. August

_I'm back, _Glee_ lovers! This story comes from a great prompt I received in a review a while ago. However, it took the pinch of Artie/Tina in last night's _Glee_ to really get the ball rolling in my head. My apologies. My mental lethargy can only be attributed to a deadly combination of overwork, grad school papers, lovesickness and lack of reviews. Yes, that was an attempt at a guilt trip. Couldn't resist.)_

_This one is for __**JustRelax**__, who graciously gave me this idea, and for __**Average Everyday Sane Psycho**__, who reviewed chapter 7. Don't start falling asleep at the wheel, guys…review!_

_Hope everyone enjoys a last dose of summer fun before Artie and Tina head back to school next chapter. _

_Disclaimer__: Nothing is mine, except the depths of my imagination. And the olive oil joke. "Name That Showtune" belongs to one of my sisters…and other Broadway fanatics, I would imagine. One of my brothers plays it with her, though he's loathe to admit it. _

* * *

Field Day

The park was fairly crowded. This was understandable, as it was a fairly scorching summer's day. Children darted nimbly in and out of the sprinklers, one or two boldly braving the icy torrent to actually sit on the sprinkler head until the water pressure forced them off onto their knees. Parents, meanwhile, sat on benches in the shade of trees, watching their children scampering through the showers of water and cooling themselves with battery-operated fans and drinks plucked from fully stocked coolers.

At a picnic table off to the side of the playground, a group of teenagers was settling in. One girl shook out a large picnic blanket as a boy came over to help her arrange it on the grass under a large tree. A huge wicker basket was placed rather unceremoniously on the table and two boys in sports jerseys started pulling food out and sorting it into piles—sandwiches, buns, salads and the like. A girl settled herself on the edge of the picnic table's bench, gently rocking a stroller back in forth, in which a baby peacefully slept. There was an air of camaraderie about the group, as though they were held together by a strong invisible bond.

"Hey, Rachel, mind tossing over those burgers?" called a somewhat dimwitted-looking boy, taller than all the rest, as he set up a portable grill. She obliged, bringing over a pack of hot dogs as well. Not far away, two athletic-looking girls were stretching themselves out luxuriously on the grass.

"Did you bring the tanning oil, Britt? I've only got, like, three weeks to perfect my natural-sun tan before school starts and we have to go back to artificial," said Santana.

"I think it's in the basket," replied Brittany vaguely. "Do you want the regular or the extra-virgin?"

Several pairs of eyes swiveled to Brittany's direction, who looked quite unperturbed and very out-of-the-loop, holding up two glass bottles of olive oil. Santana was squinting at her, an eyebrow raised. Everyone else was still processing the latest of Brittany's odd comments. It was Puck who finally broke the silence.

"Extra-virgin? _Santana_? Sorry, Britt, looks like you've got the wrong girl!"

Everyone laughed, and a babble of talk broke out again.

*****

The afternoon wore on rather uneventfully, but still enjoyably. The boys tossed around a battered-looking Frisbee. Santana and Brittany flirted from a distance with several older boys who were on the basketball court. Rachel pulled out her collection of Broadway soundtracks and suggested they all play "Name That Showtune," a proposal that was voted down by everyone except Kurt. Finn scooped the food off the grill, piling burgers and hot dogs precariously on Styrofoam plates on the table. "Where'd you learn to cook so good?" asked Rachel through a mouthful of potato salad as Finn added a cheeseburger to the already tottering pile. "I do a lot of grilling for my mom," he shrugged, not going into much detail as his fellow Glee clubbers reached over to grab something to eat.

After dinner, everyone seemed to settle down in pairs and little groups, chatting or listening to music. It was hot out and everyone was so full, they didn't; feel like doing much other than relaxing. Well, _almost_ everyone.

"Want to come sit over here?" suggested Tina, indicating a spot around the other side of the tree trunk, opposite the side with the now-occupied picnic blanket. The sun was not directly overhead anymore, but even as it lowered and an early evening calm set in, families heading home for dinner or setting up grills, the air still hung heavy with the heat of the day.

The Glee kids were showing no signs of wanting to go home. Mercedes and Kurt, having meticulously applied some high-end sunblock they had picked up at the cosmetics counter at Macy's, were now seated comfortably in lawn chairs, poring over the latest issue of _Vogue_. Finn was trying, rather unsuccessfully, to teach Quinn's baby to throw a small toy football. The baby simply blinked at him disbelievingly, as if to say "Can you _believe_ this guy?" Puck was making himself very annoying, filling water balloons at the drinking fountain at lobbing them at whoever looked the most unsuspecting. When he hit Quinn right in the ear with a particularly large one, she chased after him, screeching, "Puck, you dumbass, you could've gotten the baby wet!"

Artie turned his gaze back to Tina and looked doubtfully in the direction she was pointing. The ground was grassy and rather uneven. "I didn't exactly come equipped with 4-wheel drive," he said tentatively. Tina giggled and, with some effort, pushed Artie around the picnic blanket, over the grass and behind the tree. He set the wheel lock as Tina settled herself in front of him, leaning back against his legs, head tipped back into his lap.

"Comfortable?" he asked, mildly surprised but reaching down to stroke her hair nonetheless.

"Very," she answered with a smile, her eyes closed in pleasure as his fingertips brushed the nape of her neck.

A few minutes of contented silence passed, Artie still stroking Tina's hair, Tina's dark eyes gazing up at him, upside-down.

"I wish we could do this every day," Artie murmured, almost to himself.

"We _can_, dummy. I'm kind of your girlfriend, remember? Geez, I thought _you _were the smart one…"

Artie snorted, unlocked his wheels and pulled himself back a few inches, so that Tina slid down, flat, to the ground. She sat up, frowning slightly and brushing grass from her dress.

"That _wasn't nice_, Artie!" she scolded him, waving a finger in an almost-stern manner that prompted Artie to try and rearrange his features into an apologetic expression. He only half succeeded.

"Sorry," he conceded, having at least the grace to look mildly abashed. "But you really shouldn't call people dumb. Now look what you've done; you've got to sit on the grass."

Tina smirked, pulled herself to her feet and said, "Oh, I don't think I will. I've got a _much_ better idea." And she stepped right up and settled herself on his lap, leaning her head right on his shoulder, their faces were very close.

"And what makes you think I'll let you sit _here_?" asked Artie in a questioning tone. Tina raised her head an inch or so, the better to look him in the eye. He seemed to be trying to keep a straight face.

"This," she whispered, leaning in towards him. As their lips met, Tina could've sworn she heard Artie's muffled voice remark, "I don't know, this is a good spot. You're gonna have to do better than that..." She rolled her eyes mentally as she deepened the kiss, wrapping her arms more tightly around him, one hand absentmindedly caressing his jawline.

Artie was unaware of any time passing at all, at that moment there was nothing real to him except Tina, Tina's lips against his, Tina's body pressed close and Tina's arms wrapped tightly around him as though she were drowning and only he could save her. It was bliss, the heady feeling of kissing Tina and forgetting everyone and everything around them.

Suddenly, Artie felt the startling sensation of being doused in a very large quantity of cold water. Tina jerked away, her long black-and-blue hair hanging in wet ropes in front of her face. An ice chip slid down her cheek and landed pitifully on the ground.

"Get a room, you two!" called Puck, positively hooting with laughter. He stood a few feet away, holding an empty cooler that, minutes ago, had been full of semi-melted ice cubes and frigid water. On either side of him stood what looked to be the entire Glee Club, some clutching extra water balloons.

"What was the meaning of that?" spluttered Artie, trying in vain to brush the water droplets from his glasses.

"You guys were totally all over each other," quipped Rachel.

"Yeah, have some self-respect and junk," added Puck, which caused another round of laughter.

"Like _you've_ never made out in public before, man," called Matt from the back of the group, where he had been tying new water balloons closed so that everyone would have a fresh supply of ammo.

"Do you mind?" asked Tina, her half-smile completely undermining her cross tone. "This was a romantic rendezvous until you guys butted in!"

There was a general chorus of "Woah!" One of the boys let out a long, low whistle.

"You know what?" asked Puck, advancing on the pair of them. "I think these two have to get a little _wetter_ before they really learn their lesson.

The splashing sounds of a dozen or so water balloons hitting their target was completely drowned out by laughter and shouts as a full-on water fight broke out, every Gleek for him- or herself.

* * *

_What did you think? I've seen a definite downturn in reviews for the last few chapters, so I really want to hear from you all. Pleeeease?_

_September means school days, so it's back to class for Artie and Tina. But just what class are they going back to? Where in the time-space continuum _are_ we, anyway? Keep yourself tuned in to find out. And remember, I'm looking for ideas for the upcoming months. We've got September, October, November and December coming up (yes, sadly, the end is in sight), so use this golden opportunity to let you voice be heard, before the holidays are upon us (in the story, not for real)._

_Don't Stop Reviewin',_

_Delilah_


	9. September

_It's good to be back, Gleeks! I'm so sorry about the long stretch between August and September. Between getting all my students' paperwork together for the end of the school year, finishing up testing and writing my 15-page final paper for grad school, it's been coming in from all sides lately. I hope this slightly longer chapter makes up for it, and hopefully now that grad school is over for the summer I'll be able to update more often. Thanks for sticking with me!_

_Someone mentioned back-to-school shopping in their review, and another reader mentioned senior year reflections, so I decided to combine both brilliant ideas and write this chapter. Hope you like it!_

* * *

Back-To-School Lists

"No way, I am _not_ getting it!"

"Come on, I think it looks kinda cute with that binder you picked out!"

"Seriously, Tee, I am not spending $84.99 plus tax on an argyle-patterned calculator."

"You like argyle, Artie—"

"A _pink_ argyle calculator!" Tina giggled slightly at the revolted look on Artie's face. She pouted slightly, hoping she could guilt her boyfriend into buying what was perhaps the single most ostentatious calculator on the planet, but he just folded his arms stubbornly. "Honestly," he continued, "even Kurt wouldn't be caught dead with that thing."

"Oh, all right," she agreed, returning the offending item to the shelf from whence it came. "Let's see, we got notebooks, pens…"

"I wanted some highlighters…_not_ pink ones, Artie added, spotting the mischievous look in Tina's eye as they turned the corner of the aisle, narrowly avoiding bumping into a thoroughly overexcited kindergartener digging through the bin for what seemed to be the last Spiderman folder.

Staples was packed to a degree that Tina was sure was punishable by law. Every parent within a ten mile radius seemed to have decided that not only was today ideal for back-to-school shopping, but that this particular store was the finest establishment in which to finish said shopping. They found the aisle devoted to markers and highlighters and Tina cringed when she saw just how crowded it was.

The majority of the aisle's allotted space was crammed with elementary school-aged children and their parents, fighting their way to the Crayola display. One little girl pushed her way through the forest of knees and emerged victorious, calling out, "Mom! Look—the twelve pack! I got the last one!"

Further along were some middle school boys, conversing in low whispers. It seemed to Tina that they were attempting to decide the best way to smuggle Sharpies into school without having them confiscated before they could use them to draw rude pictures on the stalls of the boys' bathroom.

At the very end of the aisle was the section where different brands of highlighters were displayed. Standing next to it was a small group of teenagers who were very obviously freshman. The overlarge schoolbags on wheels, the three-inch binders, the pocket organizers…Tina grinned, wondering if she and Artie were ever like that…

"Were we ever like that?" came Artie's voice, nodding in the direction of the supposed-freshmen, one of whom was apparently trying to decide between Longman's Dictionary of American English or Webster's New Abridged College Dictionary.

"What, losers?" asked Tina.

Artie raised an eyebrow.

"We still are," she continued.

"Yeah," conceded Artie, "but now we're seniors. We're losers with seniority."

_Seniors_. It had been a dream for years—_Just wait 'til we're seniors…we'll be running this place…_but now that senior year was here, it was a little daunting.

Tina watched as Artie scanned the display for a pack of highlighters that was not limited to 'girly colors' like pink and lavender, made his selection and tossed it into the shopping basket on his lap. _Will we be doing this next year?_ Tina wondered.

Ever since middle school, Artie and Tina had gone back-to-school shopping together every September. It was like a tradition—a lame tradition, but a tradition nonetheless. What would happen next year? Would they be off at college, setting up their dorm rooms without each other?

"Tina?"

Tina jerked out of her thoughts abruptly.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing…just thinking about next year."

Artie looked thoughtful for a moment. "I can't believe we'll be going off to college," he said. Tina nodded fervently. "It's weird, things changing so fast, isn't it?"

They had reached an aisle full of plastic folders and those vinyl report covers that business interns and high school overachievers bought to protect their reports. A very familiar figure was standing in front of the display.

"Mr. Schue?"

Will Schuester turned on the spot. He spotted Artie and Tina, and his face split into a grin.

"Hi, you guys! Getting your supplies for school? Senior year—it's gonna be big!"

Both teenagers nodded mutely. Tina was staring to get the feeling that she might be sick if anyone asked her about senior year again.

Mr. Schue didn't seem to notice. He held up an armful of plastic report covers, the good, sturdy kind. "Look what I've got you guys for your sheet music! Glee's gonna dominate this year—wait 'til you see what kind of ideas I've come up with! I've been working on our set list all summer, and I think that with some good, hard practice, we'll be unstoppable!"

It was hard not to laugh at Mr. Schue's over-enthusiasm, especially the mental image of him sitting on a beach somewhere in swim trunks and a Hawaiian shirt, drawing dancing stick figures on a steno pad as he choreographed each number. Sometimes, Tina got the impression that Mr. Schue needed to join a bowling league or something.

Apparently, Mr. Schue sensed that something was up, because his smile faded just a little as he said, "So I take it you guys aren't quite as excited as I am?"

It was Artie who came to Tina's rescue this time. "It's not that, Mr. Schue, it's…we're just a little nervous about next year. Thus being our last year and all…"

The Spanish teacher's face relaxed into an understanding smile. "Don't think it hasn't been on my mind. You guys are my first Glee club kids; I don't want to see any of you go. In fact, I'm thinking of failing you in Spanish so I can keep you around another year—kidding! It was a _joke_," he added at the scandalized looks on their faces.

"Seriously, though—if you tell yourselves that this is the end and it's all downhill from here, you're gonna ruin your senior year. Try and have fun as much as you can. Make this the year you do all the stuff you always wanted to do in high school but never got the chance to do. Make it count."

Before either Tina or Artie could respond, a voice boomed over the intercom: "Attention all Staples customers, announcing a sale in aisle 17 on Harper-Collins Spanish-, Italian-, German- and French-English dictionaries—now, buy one, get one free! Hurry when supplies last!"

Mr. Schue looked quickly around at his students. "Buy one, get one free? That's my cue—see you guys in a week!" and he sped off in the direction of aisle 17, pursued by several parents.

"Make it count?" asked Artie. Tina thought for a minute.

"You know," she said as they approached the checkout, "Mr. Schue's right. I'm gonna make it count this year. I mean, it's our last chance to try something new. What do you think?"

Artie studied her face. "What kind of things do you want to get done?"

Tina shrugged, absentmindedly twirling a lock of hair around her finger while fishing in her bag for money to pay for her purchases before they got up to the register. "Let's make a list," she suggested.

"Okay. Number 1: get a car."

"Artie, you don't drive."

"Yeah, but you could drive me around." Tina swatted him on the head. "Fine, well you think of something."

"Fine—Number 2: Get you to wear a T-shirt to school at least once a week."

"Do I need to add an item about fishnets?"

"What are you talking about, fishnets are sexy."

At Tina's suggestion that sweater vests couldn't be sexy, too, Artie pretended to look hurt. _I can see right through that_, thought Tina, but he continued nonetheless as they approached the counter.

"Three: Steal one of Rachel's solos."

"Four: Steal one of Kurt's accessories."

"Tina, are you trying to get us killed?"

"Fine, how's this? Four: Steal one of Santana's boyfriends."

"Accessories it is."

The sales clerk looked from one teenager to the other, clearly at a loss to understand what they were talking about. She was quite relieved when they paid, gathered their bags and headed out the door, to the sound of "Five: Share the last dance together at the senior prom," and "Number six: try out for the Cheerios."

As they headed out into the early September sun, Artie suggested numbers seven and eight, "Cut class to hang out downtown" and "Go to every home football game this year." Tina, meanwhile, supplied number nine, "Make out under the bleachers _after_ every home football game this year" before stopping and falling silent.

"What's wrong, Tee, can't think of anything else?"

"No, it's just that number ten should be the biggest one of all. I think we should choose it together."

Artie looked thoughtful. "You're right. This could alter the course of our entire senior year, and maybe even our lives." He paused, then said, "How about, 'Throw Puck in a dumpster'?"

"What? No!"

"Lock him in a Porta-Potty?"

"Artie!"

"Alright, alright…"

Bickering goodnaturedly, Tina reflected that this was what she wanted senior year to be all about. Whatever they chose to fill slot #10, Tina was determined to make this the best school year ever. It was their farewell tour, their grand finale.

* * *

_Well, I hope you guys enjoyed September. October awaits, and I'm thinking Halloween, but I haven't decided how to go about it yet, so I'd love to hear your suggestions._

_In the meantime, I'd better finish up grading papers so I can be all done for Glee tonight._

_Don't Stop Reviewin'!_


	10. October

_Hi, Gleeks! It's Delilah, who hasn't forgotten you. I was abroad for a while (no Internet at all), and when I got back, my computer decided that it hated me and wanted to stop working. I had saved my October chapter on it, so I'm working through the malfunctions to bring it to you without further delay. The fact that my computer is misbehaving so badly is probably part of the reason it's rather short._

_I'm going away on Sunday-my parents, brothers, sisters and I are heading down to Louisiana to spend some time with my relations (grandparents, aunts, uncles and loads of cousins), so I won't be able to update during that time as my stubborn, still-not-really-working computer will not be accompanying me to Acadiana. I will, however, be bringing a notebook, so hopefully I can make some headway on November. I can still receive e-mails on my phone, so post your suggestions for November & December in your review and I'll have some ideas to work with._

_In the meantime, Happy Halloween from Tina & Artie...a bit early. Enjoy!_

* * *

Incognito

It was Kurt who proposed the idea. A costume party—it was a quintessentially _Kurt_ idea, but that left one problem: costumes.

"What do you mean, we _have_ to wear costumes?"

"Come _on_," sighed Kurt exasperatedly, wrinkling his brow as much as he could without putting his perfectly-moisturized skin in danger of future furrows. "Halloween is an ideal chance for each and every one of us to throw caution and propriety to the winds and indulge their wildest fashion fantasies!" He then launched into a rhapsodic soliloquy on the many and varied uses of lamé.

There was no arguing with him, not when he got _that look _in his eye and started rhapsodizing about the latest crazy trend he'd seen in Italian _Vogue_.

"How about a theme costume?" asked Tina, as they out the front doors later that afternoon.

"What kind of theme?" responded Artie, looking torn between amusement and sincere curiosity.

Tina smiled. "I don't know."

The bell tinkled as the door to the costume shop burst open. The teenaged couple that entered had no idea what they were looking for, which usually annoyed the proprietors of the shop, but today was different. It was a slow day, and waiting on a couple of indecisive high-schoolers would be a nice break in the monotony.

"Help you, dears?" asked the plump, smiling woman behind the counter.

"We're going to a costume party," began Tina, but Artie cut in, "…and we don't know what to go as."

"Not a problem, dears. Let's see what we've got in the back."

Within minutes, Artie and Tina were taking turns in the dressing room, trying on the costumes the shopkeeper brought them and critiquing each other's choices.

"Not so funny," snorted Tina, as Artie emerged in an absurd polka-dotted clown suit.

"Ha, ha…I didn't pick it out…you have a try."

Tina pulled the curtain to reveal a nun's habit. Artie raised his eyebrows.

"Definitely not." Tina pouted slightly. "I thought, after all the leather and fishnets, this would give everyone a shock…"

"Not the right kind of shock. Next, please."

The costume shop lady dug into the shelves of theme costumes, searching for the winning combination. It had to be in here, somewhere.

A knight and his lady—"I can see why armor went out of fashion—I've got enough hardware to worry about already, thanks."

Cowboys—"A cowprint mini? No, thanks."

Greek gods—"There's no way I'm wearing a dress in front of Puck and Finn and all the other guys." "It's not a dress, Artie—" "It's not pants. Next."

Gangsters—"Where, may I ask, are you planning on sticking that gun?" "You should talk—argyle and pinstripes clash, big time."

Napoleon and Josephine—"Come on, Tee, I know it's hard to tell, but I'm not really short." "Okay, okay…"

Two Musketeers—"This is all wrong without another person." "Like I'm sharing you with someone else." "Aw, _Artie_…"

Bananas—"No. Just—no." "Who would buy banana costumes, anyway?" "I don't know…my cousin Steve would think it's a laugh."

On and on it went. The pile of discarded costumes, masks, feather boas, plastic weapons and capes mounted.

"Tricky customers? Don't worry, we'll find what you need…" And without further ado, she disappeared into the storeroom and emerged with her arms full of still more costumes.

Artie and Tina sighed in mingled frustration and determination, preparing to get dressed for perhaps the thirtieth time that day.

Nearly two hours later, they finally emerged, bags in hand.

The party was noisy and lively. The walls had been draped with false cobwebs and eerie paintings, the kind whose eyes seemed to follow you as you walked by. Tables of delectable snacks, Halloween candy and varied desserts beckoned to the guests, though the rubber spiders and rats alongside the treats may have deterred some of the more squeamish. The dance floor was full of costumed revelers jumping and twirling to the beat. Along the sidelines, other guests gossiped, drinks in hand.

Artie and Tina made their way in, towards where they could see a group of their fellow Gleeks by the food. Brittany was not letting her mermaid costume stop her from dining on the shrimp cocktail. Mercedes and Kurt were evaluating their guests' costumes in low voices. They, too, had decided on theme costumes—very stylized, over-the-top representations of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. Kurt's eyes widened as he saw the couple approaching.

"Well, well," he began, delicately re-arranging his elaborate powdered wig, "let's see."

He scrutinized the plumed hats, patches and coats bedecked with gold buttons and flamboyant embroidery.

"Pirates—classic. It _has _been a bit overdone in recent years, but you do pull it off…goes to show you that the right accessories can turn a cliché into a classic," he concluded, gesturing a beringed finger at Artie's simulated pegleg and Tina's jewel-encrusted sabre.

"Thanks, Kurt—your approval means a lot," giggled Tina, pulling her first mate towards the dancefloor with a roguish grin.

* * *

_What did you think? Please tell me! Don't forget to send me your suggestions-even back in Cajun country, I'll be able to read your reviews. Only two months left to write...it's kind of sad, Gleeks, but it will be nice to round out the year._

_Don't Stop Reviewin', cher,_

_-Delilah_


	11. November

_Hi, Gleeks! Back from _la bella Louisiane_, and prepped with a new chapter for you! It's a pretty standard Thanksgiving tradition-in grade schools, at least-to discuss what you are thankful for. Tina never was the verbose type. _

_On a personal note, I'm a little sad that this fic is almost over, but I've already started on my next project. See the end of this fic for an update._

* * *

Give Thanks with Grateful Hearts

Mr. Sullivan gave up sometime around third period. It was the day before the long Thanksgiving weekend, and his students had lost their focus before they even left their houses this morning. Now, with one class period left to go before dismissal, pumpkin pie and doorbuster sales, Mr. Sullivan had resigned himself to the fact that his 11th grade American Lit. class was not going to be in any mood to discuss _The Scarlet Letter_.

"Okay, class," he said dully as the students filed in, joyfully discussing their holiday plans with their friends and dragging their feet to their seats. Eventually, enough of them had directed their eyes to the front of the room for their teacher to decide that he could continue.

"Listen, you don't want to do work today. I can tell. I don't even want to do work today. In an hour, I'll be on a flight to Atlanta, to spend Thanksgiving with my daughter. In the spirit of the holiday, how about you make a list of the things you're thankful for?"

"Why?" shouted a football player from the back.

"Because it's traditional in most American families to use Thanksgiving as a time to reflect on life's bounty, on the blessings we've been granted and on the things in our lives we're most grateful for," quipped Rachel Berry in the front row.

"Because I'll dismiss you ten minutes early," replied Mr. Sullivan.

"Done! _Awesome_," crowed the football player, high-fiving one of his friends, who was sitting beside him adjusting the aerodynamic perfection of a paper airplane.

Seated all the way off to the side of the classroom, right beside a chart of the characters in _A Tale of Two Cities_ that had been designed by one of the sophomores in lieu of writing a paper, Tina pulled a fresh piece of looseleaf from her binder. _Things I'm Thankful For_, she wrote, neatly across the top of the page. Then she stopped to think, absentmindedly chewing on the cap of her ballpoint pen.

_Things I'm Thankful For_

_My health_

_Ugh, boring_, thought Tina. _I sound like a senior citizen…_

_My family_

…_When they're home and can spare me a minute or two…_

_Our home_

_Food_

Tina froze. This list was worse than one she could've written as a kindergartener. She turned around and looked out the window, thinking hard, letting happy feelings wash over her in hopes that this would bring the things she was _really_ thankful for to mind. Grinning as images popped up in her mind's eye, Tina put pen to paper yet again.

_The way I feel when I perform with Glee club._

_All my friends, the way they don't judge or let what other people think bother them._

_The way Artie looks at me, like I'm the only girl in the room…even though I'm sitting in the company of Rachel, Mercedes, Quinn and two smoking-hot Cheerios!_

_His smile, which lights up his eyes like Christmas lights_

_The butterflies I get in my stomach when he holds my hand_

_The way his kisses make me feel lightheaded_

_The way he always thinks about what kind of flowers best express his feelings_

_The way he tries to 'defend my honor'_

_My love for him_

Love? Was that what it was? Tina put down her pen and re-read her list. Somewhere along the line, it had changed from a typical "things-I'm-thankful-for" list into a love-letter. Tina felt herself blushing.

"Okay, class, we've got ten minutes left to the period…if you want to get going, be my guest…"

Tina was surrounded by the sounds of binders being stashed in schoolbags, coats being zipped, excited chatter and footsteps running out to lockers. Hurriedly gathering up her books and shoving the list into her binder, Tina got to her feet and followed the crowd out of the room.

After retrieving her coat and hat from her locker, Tina directed her steps toward Artie's locker to wait for him so they could walk home together. Her wait was rewarded within ten minutes when Artie rolled up behind her.

"Tee! I see you're all ready to go?"

"Ready and waiting, slowpoke."

"What's that?" Artie made to pull out the List, which was sticking precariously out of Tina's binder. Tina grabbed it away from him, suspiciously fast, a dull flush mounting in her cheeks.

"Nothing," she stammered. Artie's smile widened.

"Come on, Tee…what is it? Is it a _secret_?" he chided. Tina felt the heat radiating from her face, cursing herself. _Damn it, stop blushing. Stop it!_

"Just some stupid thing Sullivan made us do last period. 'What We're Thankful For,' like we used to do in grade school."

Artie raised an eyebrow in an irresistible fashion. Tina tried, unsuccessfully, to look away.

"So…what _are _you thankful for?"

"None of your business."

"Am I on the list?"

"None of your business?"

"Am I Number One on the list?"

"Artie Abrams, you really think pretty highly of yourself, don't you?"

He smirked. "That's not an answer to my question. Am I or am I not Number One on the list?"

Tina smirked back. "Nope. Not even _close_," she taunted, crumpling the list up tightly in her fist and cramming it as deeply into her messenger bag as possible.

"So I'm Number Two?"

"Try again, friend."

"_Three?"_

"Three strikes, you're out!" Eyeing the horrified look on Artie's face, Tina acquiesced. "You're number seven," she conceded.

Artie looked thoroughly put out. "Seven_?_ _Seven_! Honestly, Tee, I know we've had our…issues, that it hasn't been easy at all, but I thought what we shared was really something special, and—"

Tina sighed, amused by his adorable indignation. "You're also numbers eight, nine, ten _and_ eleven through thirteen."

Artie's smile reappeared so quickly, it could've been zapped their by magic. "Really?"

Tina hesitated. _Should I get all mushy, or just brush him off with a joke?_

"So…speaking of Thanksgiving, how are _you_ spending the holiday?"

And as they walked home, Tina listening to Artie go on and on about how he was going to spend three hours in the van sandwiched between Brooke and a fruit basket while Molly and Joe argued over which dessert was sure to be the best in the back seat, before finally arriving at his grandparents' house to battle the cousins for the best sleeping spots, her thoughts strayed back to The List.

_It doesn't matter if you're number one or seven hundred on my list, _she mused. _You're the most important thing I have, and I don't need a special day to realize _that_._

* * *

_Well? I really hope you all enjoyed this update. December is next; since it's the last chapter, this is (sob) the last time I shall ask you for your suggestions as to what should take place. _

_Don't worry, I won't disappear after this fic is done. My next project is a series of twelve one-shots inspired by the signs of the zodiac. Each sign shall be represented by a character from Glee. Keep an eye out for the first entry, or subscribe to Author Alerts...since they won't be contained in one story (being all different characters and ratings), that's the only way I could guarantee you not missing one._

_Don't Stop Reviewin', _

_Delilah_


	12. December

_My friends, the end is here. I think my delay in updating was at least in part reluctance to end this story. Not to mention that I have Cablevision, so I didn't have Fox for the past few weeks. I was in Glee withdrawal. But it's been a great ride, and it's been an honor and a privilege to share it with you. Bien merci, from the bottom of my heart. _

_The other facotr behind my delay is, as usual, work. Though this year is a vast improvement over last year, it's no cakewalk. And my students' jibes about my accent are really getting old. Honestly, I know it sounds a little...unusual...but it's really not that funny, kids. _

_I'll save my goodbyes for after the story. I hope you enjoy this last chapter._

_By the way...any Ohio natives out there? You guys watch Dick Clark on New Year's Eve? My cousins down in _la belle Louisiane _do, an hour behind us Eastern Standard Timers. Don't know if it's popular in Ohio, though, and I don't know anyone from around there to ask. _

* * *

The Best Is Yet To Come

The sky outside the fogged-over window had darkened to blue and then to indigo hours ago. There was a buzz of festive conversation as the guests enumerated their picks for tomorrow's Rose Bowl game, described Christmas presents from Hell they had thankfully returned, blushing, to the local mall days ago ("Three sizes too big and was it ever UGLY! _What_ was she thinking?"), or otherwise traded New Year's resolutions ("This is gonna be the year I quit for good. I mean it!"). The lights on the Christmas tree sparkled in the dim indoor lighting ("ambience," Dad had called it) just as the lights adorning the neighboring houses twinkled in the almost absolute darkness outside.

The Abrams house was crowded, all available seats taken. Mrs. Abrams was standing at the kitchen counter, gossiping with her work friends as she arranged hors d'oeuvres artistically on a platter shaped like a snowman. Mr. Abrams was pouring out champagne into plastic champagne flutes adorned with a glittery '2011'. Stretched out on the floor right in front of the TV, Brooke was watching _Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve With Ryan Seacrest_, eagerly anticipating the long-awaited ball drop and calling out up-to-the-minute updates every minute of so. Behind her, seated comfortably on the sofa, were Molly and the boyfriend she'd brought home from college to face her father's scrutiny.

Artie and Tina sat side-by-side, wedged between the Christmas tree and a folding snack table laden with a half-empty bowl of cheese puffs and some paper napkins. Though she had refused to abandon her fishnet arm-warmers, Tina had donned a sparkly sequined black and silver top for the occasion, which was not only festive in Artie's opinion, but also seemed—strangely enough—to match her cheap 'Happy New Year' tiara. It was a similar tiara, a violently magenta one, that she was trying to force onto Artie's head with limited success.

"Come on, Artie, put it on! I'm wearing one!"

"And I'm not, so let's keep it that way!"

"Your sisters are wearing them!"

"_Sisters_, Tina!"

"I think I spotted your brother Joe in one, too," quipped Tina with a wicked grin. Artie looked unmoved.

"That's not remotely surprising; I dropped him on his head when he was a baby."

"_Artie_!" cried Tina, torn between disapproval and a mad desire to laugh, while Joe, who was walking by with a brownie in each hand, promptly dropped his treats and howled, "_What!_ Mom! Did Artie ever drop me on my head?"

Tina let out a huffy breath. "Fine," she conceded. "Will you at least wear the top hat?" she asked, holding one up. "Sure," said Artie with a laugh, plopping the unfortunate-looking cardboard hat on his head and grinning.

"Four minutes and thirty…no, twenty seven—twenty _six_—seconds to go!" announced Brooke importantly from her spot on the floor. She had tied individual strings of tinsel to her New Year's tiara one at a time, in an effort to make it look more glamorous.

"Give it a rest, Brooke," advised Molly, "you've been telling us how long 'til midnight since about eight o'clock." Her boyfriend chuckled and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, at which point Mr. Abrams emerged from his intense discussion of the Bengals' chances for the playoffs to sit between his daughter and her guest and launch into a lecture on a father's duties in regards to his little girls and their…gentleman callers. Forcing down a laugh, both Artie and Tina turned away.

"So, did you make a reservation?" Tina asked. Artie shook his head. "Nah…I thought of resolving to become the coolest kid in school, or buy a Cadillac, or something like that, but then I remembered I'd done all that already."

Tina giggled. "What about you?" Artie asked interestedly. "You never showed me your Thanksgiving list, so you owe me a secret, anyway."

"You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?" Tina asked in mock anger, swatting Artie lightly on the arm. "Fine—I've resolved to talk more in class."

"Who made that one up for you, Mercedes?"

Another swat, not entirely playful this time. "Not that kind of talking! I mean _participate_!"

"I know, I know…just kidding, Tee." Artie beamed at her. "That's really great, Tee…I'm proud of you."

She blushed. "C'mon, who are you...my mom?" she asked, though she was smiling. She was so beautiful when she smiled…

"One minute!"

"We'd better get a spot near the TV, if we want to actually see the countdown," said Artie, waving a hand vaguely behind him to the spot where his sister was practically dancing up and down in excited anticipation. Tina nodded and together, they picked their way through the crowd that was now moving in towards the TV screen.

The clock on the screen registered thirty seconds to go as Mr. Abrams started to pass out the champagne, yanking a plastic flute out of his younger son's hand with a not-entirely-joking, "Yeah, right, Joe, come back in a couple of years, son!" Artie looked down and saw that Tina had taken his hand. Twenty seconds to go…

Everyone else was on their feet, Brooke standing precariously on a chair to lead the count. "Ready?" she asked.

"Ten!"

It was all coming to an end, the past year…the turbulence, the uncertainty and finally the joy they'd experienced together.

"Nine!"

What would he remember the most, when he looked back? The jokes they'd shared, which few other people even understood? The times they'd gone shopping together, teasing each other good-naturedly over their respective fashion faux-pas? The kisses they'd stolen in hidden corners and unanticipated moments?

"Eight…seven…six…"

And what would next year bring? What lay ahead for the two of them? _Will me and Tina be together to ring in the next New Year? Will we have another Christmas together? Another Valentine's Day? How many times will I get to tell her how much I love her? How many times will I dare?_

"Five…four...three…"

Artie looked up at Tina, her dark eyes shining with the promise of a fresh start. She looked so beautiful…in this moment, poised on the brink of a brand-new year, anything was possible. Anything could happen this year, and Artie was determined to make sure that it was a good sort of 'anything'. He gripped her hand more tightly, his other hand closed tight around the confetti he was poised to release in a heartbeat…

"Two…one…HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

_As confetti rained down in a multicolored shower of glitter and light and the sounds of champagne glasses clinking dully and "Auld Lang Syne" playing swelled around them, Artie leaned in and kissed Tina—for good luck, of course. It had been a very good year, the one they'd left behind…but surely, the best was yet to come. After all, all the others had been very good years, too._

* * *

_And that's all, folks. Exit stage left. I want to thank all my readers, subscribers and reviewers one last time, and I hope that before the holidays get in full swing, I can start posting some new pieces. Keep an eye out for me...I don't plan on fading away._

_Bien merci, mes cheres. You guys kept me going so many times this year. It hasn't been a very good year for me or my family, but writing this story and seeing all the positive responses it garnered really helped me to pull through at times. Your suggestions, comments and praise have been like little, unexpected-but-much-adored gifts to me. _

_I'd normally bid you 'On va se 'oir' here-' 'Til we see each other again'-but I'm not sure who I'll be seeing, or when, so...one last time, Gleeks:_

_DON'T STOP REVIEWIN'!_

_Yours, as always,_

_Delilah_

_Aw, what the hell..._

_On va se 'oir!_


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